Her Last Dance
by Black Wings
Summary: Depressing. Don't judge by the title- this is not 'cute' or 'fluffy' by any means. And yes, I killed her off again- this is romance. Please review.


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__h e r l a s t d a n c e  
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_Author's Note: _No, this is not one of those dances with sappy romance and a touching slow dance at the end with fluffy lyrics- from me?! Hell no. This is another one of my [caution!] fanfics with a angst ending- romance or no romance. And, yes, -sigh- this _is_ romance. Just death too. ^^ I love my writing style.  
  
_ Disclaimer: _I do not own Harry Potter' or any of it's related 's. I _do_, however, own this fic and it's original theme.  
  
_ Warnings:_ Hints at possible suicide; romance; minority swearing [maybe]; and a very small amount of blood. Also deals with death.  


  


* The [*] Code: One of my trademarks as an author is Hermione's blonde hair. It's my way of breaking out from your insane but the books have it _this_ way!' ranting, and not at least fully copying J.K. Rowling. Okay? *  


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Harry sighed, looking down at his hands and cursing under his breath. He had come down to openly hating these dances each year- so much so he had reduced himself to going alone. If not for the constant insisting by his best friend, who, how ironic, was out dancing right now, he wouldn't of been there.  
  
He muttered something again, letting the thought go. Tugging at the collar of his dress robe, which was steadily becoming very heavy and damp against his skin in the packed heat of the hall, he looked up. Hundreds of students, both paired and not paired, were out dancing on the floor, the loud music of the Weird Sisters [still popular] pumping in the air.  
  
Actually, he thought, he did have a reason. She just didn't get here yet.  
  
He looked up again, at the empty staircase leading from the girls' dorms. He had been here for almost three hours- sitting out most of the time, forcing conversation- and she still hadn't come down. It was ironic, almost- she stayed the holidays only to retire to her room almost immediately after class and not even bother to come to the party.  
  
Hmph. It must be pretty damn hard reading with all the heavy music playing-  
  
He sighed, looking down again for a few minutes at his hands, his rich silk robes, the slur of moving bodies; the clock struck eleven. He could barely hear it, under all the music, but faithfully it struck. He cursed, looking up when suddenly he saw her.  
  
She was standing on the stairs, a single hand running down the wooden banister as she slowly walked forward. She kept her head bent, eyes almost to the floor, her thick blonde [*] hair trailing back behind her shoulders, let down loosely instead of her normal formal bun. Her powder blue silk robes flowed out behind her, almost floating over the steps, and there was a blank expression on her face.  
  
Then, in a single moment, she looked up at him and their eyes met, staring into each other's over the chaos of the room. Hermione.  
  
Immediately he stood, walking forward toward the staircase as he pushed and shoved his way through the crowded room of bodies and attached couples, keeping his eyes almost always on her. She didn't look away from him, staring, almost, and waiting without taking a step until he reached her.  
  
He finally did, breaking his way out of the crowd and nearly running to her. She turned to face him, looking up. Harry paused, his breath catching in his throat, and smiled at her, looking her over.  
  
Her robes were beautiful, as they always were, smoothly running down over the curves of her body. They were- strangely- loosened, almost, at her chest, tousled slightly as if she had been sleeping in them previously. Her right sleeve was slipping over slightly, showing a strip of skin on her shoulder that was covered on the other side- but he didn't really notice. He just saw they were beautiful.  
  
She was wearing makeup too, a rarity in her personality, although he couldn't see the details of her face in the dimness of the room. If he could, he would of seen it was slightly smudged, running down in streaks over the apples of her cheeks- and her face was pale, almost glowing under the stagelights of the concert platform the music was blaring from.  
  
He didn't really noticed that- all he saw was her smiling back at him.  
  
, he said, standing up a little straighter,   
  
I was busy., she murmured, looking back down at the floor again.   
  
Harry blinked, deciding in that moment to change what he was going to ask her- which was why she was so late coming down- to something more cheerful.  
  
I was just going to say you looked wonderful., he said. Hermione blinked, looking back up at him. Her hair was tangled, pulled back from her face but mussed slightly; and her eyes were almost blank.  
  
Thank you., she said, softly. Harry couldn't help but look at her; she was acting so different tonight. Not really shy, but- a brief pause pasted between them, until Hermione's almost hoarse voice broke it.  
  
Dance with me., she said, looking up. Harry nodded, muttering a yes and smiling- she was finally smiling back at him again- and taking her hand, pulling her out into the crowd and onto the dance floor.  
  
From that moment on, time seemed to stop, starting over again as soon as he touched her, pressing his hand down gently on the silky back of her robe. She looked up, pulling just a fraction of an inch closer to his body, almost weakly, and putting her arm up around his neck just as the music, now sounding vague and faded, switched to something slower.  
  
It took minutes for him to think of something to say to her, looking down and into her eyes, hers locking with his. For the first time he noticed how very pale she was- her skin almost white, strangely unflushed in the heat of the room and smooth as porcelain- and how desperate the look in her eyes was, how shallow.  
  
He blinked, suddenly reaching up on a whim and touching it, her cheek. She whimpered at his touch.  
  
Are you okay, Hermione?, he asked, holding his hand on her face, Were you sick? Is that why you were so late coming down to the-  
  
, she said softly. She reached up with her own palm, finding his hand and putting her hand over his, holding it against her cheek as they danced slowly. Harry bent down, closer to her.  
  
She was cold. Pale- not even a hint of warmth or colour on her skin. And it was beginning to scare him.  
  
You must be... you're so cold. Here, let's go back up to the-, he said, trying to pull his hand down. Hermione held it.  
  
, she said, letting out a small sob. Harry blinked, feeling her face grow damp under his palm- she was crying, the tears running down and through his hand. Even they weren't warm.  
  
, he said gently, pulling her closer at the sight of her crying. She leaned forward into him, resting her head against his robes as she cried, Harry murmuring to her softly and moving his hand up to stroke her hair, comforting her as their dance slowed to a stop.  
  
It's okay, you're going.., Harry said, running his hand through her blonde[*] tresses slowly, ...to be alright-  
  
, Hermione answered, so quietly he could barely make out her voice, buried deep within the silk layers of his robe. She paused a moment, then pulled away and looked at him.  
  
Tears were running freely down her face, even though neither her eyes nor face showed any evidence of crying- and again her eyes were blank, begging, almost, for their dance to stop.  
  
I wanted to tell you something., she said slowly, looking up at him as she spoke. She paused a moment, waiting a second before continuing.   
  
That's why I came to the dance tonight., she said.  
  
Harry blinked, looking up at her and stepping slightly closer, as if she were going to disappear.  
  
, he said, staring with equal intensity back at her, What is it? Tell me why-  
  
I had to tell you, she said, letting out a weak sob in between words, slowly and yet forcefully all at once, like she was running out of time, That I-  
  
That I loved you, Harry., she said, finally. With that, a single tear rolled down her pale face, falling down over her skin- down her face and cheek, running down her neck and disappearing into the fold of her robe- before he answered, stunned.  
  
, Harry started, looking at her, pausing and gasping slightly, You love me?  
  
, she said, almost sadly, looking at him. Her eyes flashed dimly, waiting for his reply.  
  
He studdered, looking at her- so beautiful to him- as he struggled through his response.  
  
Hermione, I...  
  
, she whispered softly, looking up at him quickly.  
  
I-I love you., he said, looking at her back, her calm face- scared, almost, she looked scared- and the silent tears, her face still a dulled white.  
  
Then, slowly, she drifted forward and put her arms around his neck, gently pressing her lips against his. He blinked, then realized what was happening and circled his arms around her waist, kissing her back sweetly until the two finally pulled away.  
  
Hermione smiled at him, still crying softly.  
  
I wish I would of told you sooner, Harry., she said, looking at him, his face still in a state of conscious shock. He looked back at her, confused, and she reached out and touched his cheek, kissing it softly with her lips with as much tenderness as she had that day at the station, years ago.  
  
, she said, letting the gentle smile on her face fade as she turned away, looking past him and up at something, waiting.  
  
Harry blinked, opening his mouth to reply to her when a sudden scream erupted from the staircase.  
  
Suddenly the music rushed back and hit him; the heat and the rush of energy in the room all pausing at the noise. He looked up, sitting on his chair, at the sound of the scream, just as the clock dimly struck eleven.  
  
It was Lavender, who had gone back up to her dorm to reapply makeup, who had screamed. She was sobbing, uncontrollably, someone's arms around her shoulders as the crowd pushed it's way to her, the dancing completely forgotten, wondering what was happening.  
  
He could barely make out what she was muttering, still screaming almost, from the staircase balcony.   
  
It's Hermione.., she said, letting out a sob, I went in there and she was- in... blood an.. knife in the... help her, she was dea-  
  
The crowd slowly gasped, immediately erupting into heavy chaos- some people standing in shock, some pushing up toward the sobbing Lavender, a few already crying in each other's arms.  
  
Harry looked up, past them all to the staircase, where she stood, looking down at him as the crowd pushed past her, through her. She looked back at him, her face still as pale, even though he could now clearly see the damp stains of crimson dripping through her robe, her neck and her chest, running down from her lips.  
  
She smiled weakly, blowing him a kiss from across the room and pausing as she reached out with her hand, bringing it back slowly to her body and turning back toward the stairs, disappearing into the panicked crowd.   
  
Harry brought his hand up to his lips, touching them briefly with his fingertips and lowering them down, a tiny smudge of warm blood rubbing off on them. He looked up, at the crowd and the empty banister, then down at his fingers, smiling as tears began to run down his own face.  
  
the end   
  
_Ending Notes: _Review here.


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